Tales of an Apothecary
by Blkmeow13
Summary: Though I myself am no remarkable individual, I have met my share of people on my travels and many of them passed their unique stories on to me, the very same stories I now recount to you.
1. Prologue

This is a little collection of stories told about my various Oblivion (and one Morrowind) characters by the character that I play the most as. Also, I always have custom character classes so I will post the class of each chapter's main character at the beginning of the chapter. This chapter is the narrator, Ana's class:

**Apothecary-**Magic Intelligence, Willpower

Blade, Restoration, Alchemy, Alteration, Athletics, Acrobatics, Mercantile

* * *

I suppose I should start by introducing myself, I am known as Anacelin. I am a traveling Apothecary who sells potions I make with ingredients I find in my wanderings. Throughout my travels I have met all sorts of people, from criminals to Blades to wanderers like me, and I must say I have enjoyed the company of all, or at least, most of them.

I grew up in a quiet village in the northern reaches of Cyrodil. My mother was the village healer and my father a skilled alchemist, it was from them that I learned my trade. When I turned fifteen years old I began to feel that there was little left for me in that quiet little backwater, and so began my journey. I left hoping to better my skills as an apothecary, but I must say I wound up getting involved in more than I at first bargained for.

Though I myself am a law-abiding citizen of the Empire, a great many of the people I do business with are not. You see, I have a bit of a...talent for making various poisons, and that has attracted the attention of the Dark Brotherhood. I am often contacted my members of the Brotherhood seeking my poisons for use on some contract. I receive a great many requests for the deadly poison I make, extracted from poisonous apples, spiddal stick, and nightshade. Members of the Thieves Guild often contact me as well, usually in search of things like sleeping, invisibility, and night-eye potions. Of course, not all of my clients are up to no good, many are just seeking potions to cure various ailments they are afflicted with, and I am always happy to oblige.

I enjoy meeting new people and hearing their stories, and these are just some of the stories of the many individuals I've met. Hopefully they will give you some insight into the lives of the truly extraordinary people who live within the Empire.


	2. Ashur Dirivan

Chapter 1: Ashur Dirivan

Class:

**Sniper**-Stealth Speed, Agility

Marksman, Illusion, Alteration, Sneak, Security, Acrobatics, Speechcraft

* * *

The majority of my interaction with criminal characters is rather dry. Most of them are strictly interested in business, wanting only to buy their potions and disappear with all haste. Once in a while, however, I come across law-breakers who don't seem to quite fit in with their fellows. Ashur is a prime example of this. He is, to put it quite bluntly, a thief by trade. Of course, one would have trouble believing that for simply meeting the man. Ask any ordinary, law abiding citizen strolling down the street what important traits one would think a career criminal should have, and chances are good that being good at blending into a crowd will be high on the list. In this, Ashur fails completely. He sticks out in a crowd like a cliff racer in a flock of pigeons.

This is primarily due to two peculiar aspects of his physical appearance. The first of these is his height, or lack thereof, I suppose. He is exceptionally short, even for a Bosmer. I am not a tall individual by any stretch of the word, and yet he only comes up to my elbow. However, while his small stature does contribute to his odd appearance, it is hardly the primary reason people remember this cheery little thief. Instead, most people remember Ashur for his hair. His hair wasn't always so unusual though. I recall when I used to play with him, when we were just children, it was perfectly normal. I didn't see him again for years after I left my hometown. When I finally did run across him again, I was in for a real shock.

I had just returned from one of my forays into the woods surrounding my home, and had a satchel full of valuable plants for use in my alchemy. Dusk was just falling as I set my bag down on a stool outside the corral and slipped into the small stable in which my faithful horse was already dosing. Since I'd left him at home today I made sure to give him an extra pat on the nose and a treat as a sort of apology. That done, I slipped back outside, making sure to close the fence gate behind me. I was just about to pick my bag back up when I realized the door to the house was slightly ajar. Pausing, I stared at the open door, trying to recall if I'd closed it or not as I left that morning.

My mental debate was quickly settled when I walked over to the door and noted that someone had clearly forced the lock open. I sighed, stepping inside, one hand on the steel short sword I keep at my side though I figured the culprit was likely long gone. This assumption was also quickly disproven, this time by a loud crash from the basement. A soon as I heard it I froze, wondering if I should confront the intruder or ride toward the road in search of a patrolman. Since the Orange Road is one of Cyrodil's major veins, there must be an Imperial horseman not too far off, I reasoned. Flinching as another crash echoed from below, I shook away the thought. I wasn't about to abandon my house to some rogue who would, or _was_ tearing it apart.

I quickly slipped off my boots, hoping that would quiet my steps enough for me to surprise the invader. Stepping carefully across the floor, I crept through the open door to my basement and began to slowly descend the stairs. As I reached the fourth step, a soft creak came from the staircase. The rattling of potion bottles that I'd been hearing since I entered the basement instantly ceased. I held my breath, not daring to move a muscle, until, after what seemed an eternity the noise began again.

This would be significantly easier if I could see, I thought to myself, though I knew full well any kind of torch or light spell was out of the question. Suddenly, I belatedly recalled something that could solve my problem perfectly. Reaching into the pocket I'd sewn into the right sleeve of my robe, I pulled out a small ebony band, inlaid with two rubies resembling the eyes of some fell creature. As I slipped the ring on my finger, the enchantment took effect instantly, both brightening my vision overall and surrounding my hands in a light purple glow. The ring itself was a gift from a Dark Brotherhood friend of mine. I believe he called it the "Eyes of Sithis" Turning, so that I was facing the wall that separated the staircase from the rest of the basement, the powerful detect life spell on the ring showed a glowing purple figure some distance away on the other side. I smiled to myself. Got you, I thought.

Stepping carefully, I made my way down the rest of the stairs, continually checking on the glowing figure for any shift. As soon as I reached the bottom, I immediately pressed my back against the inside of the staircase wall. I now had a clear view of the intruder, who was facing away from me, toward the opposite wall lined with large shelves full of various potions. The bluish tint the night eye effect gave my vision made it impossible to make out the colors of the thief's clothing or hair, but I could clearly see that it was a Bosmer, likely a child from the height. He, or at least I thought it was a he, was rifling through the different potions, checking labels on the bottles, then discarding them when they apparently did not contain what he was seeking. There was a frantic air to his motions, and I assumed the small trail of what appeared to be blood to be the cause. His apparent injury gave me pause. If his intrusion was due to desperation brought on by this injury, then there was really no need to attack him.

I took a deep breath, sheathing my sword slowly. I knew I was taking a chance in exposing my presence, but I would really rather not stab him in the back if there was no call for it. "Hey, you!" I called out to him, the sudden loudness of my voice surprising even me as it echoed off the stone walls. The thief turned and, with a sharp gasp, vanished in a flash of green light. Of course, though the invisibility spell hid him from my night eye, I could still clearly see the purple haze that surrounded his living body. As he tried to run past me, up the stairs, I quickly caught him by the collar. He gasped again as my touch instantly dissipated the invisibility, this time dropping the three potion bottles he'd been holding, two of which shattered instantly. I was about to ask something along the lines of 'what were you doing in my house while I wasn't' when the little thief turned to face me. Anything I had been about to say flew from my mind, and I lost my grip on his shirt. "Ashur?!" I nearly shouted in disbelief.

A rare genuine look of surprise crossed his face. "Ana? Is that you? What are you doing here?" he seemed just as shocked as I. My surprise quickly gave way to anger with his statement.

"What am I doing here? This is my house! What in Zenithar's name are you doing here?! Tearing up my basement no less!" I roared. It didn't help to cool my anger at all when he promptly burst out laughing.

"So the apothecary I've been hearing about was you? It really is a small world!" he said, continuing to chuckle as he did so. With a soft groan, he suddenly stopped laughing and doubled over, his arms wrapped around his abdomen. Several drops of blood fell to the floor as he did so, forming a small pool.

I quickly grabbed his shoulder, anger gone in the face of concern for my old friend. "Come on," I said softly, pulling him toward the stairs, "I'll treat that for you." He nodded his compliance with a weak smile, and followed me up the stairs to my workroom. He hopped up on the end of my worktable as I dug through one of the chests in the corner, pulling two bottles and some bandages from the organized chaos within. Now that we were upstairs I had no need for the "Eyes of Sithis", so I returned the ring to my sleeve pocket before gathering up my medical supplies and turning around. What I saw nearly made me drop everything I was holding. "Ashur, what in the world?!" He turned toward me with a questioning look as I stood in utter astonishment. "What in the world happened to your hair?" I gasped.

A familiar mischievous smile lit his face as he asked, "What, don't you like it? An old witch who lives by Chedinhal did this to me." I just shook my head, unable to imagine what he might have done to make a witch angry enough to turn his hair from the dusky blonde of his youth to its current shade, an eye splitting shade of blue that rivaled the Niben herself.


End file.
